


A Taste of Home

by magician



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Community: sentinel_thurs, Future Fic, M/M, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magician/pseuds/magician
Summary: One door closes, another opens? Life can still be fun after 50? The senses are good for something besides solving murders?  Take your pick. ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge 334 sense: taste. Thanks to the Chat Ladies for all your encouragement.

No one was really surprised when William Ellison died peacefully in his sleep.  He'd had a good, long life, but in the past year had become frail.  His sons, Jim and Steven, noticed the decline. It had given them the opportunity to reconcile any remaining issues and to enjoy what time they had left. 

What did surprise the Ellisons was how many Irish people their father had known.  On the first day of the prayer vigil, many of them came to express their condolences.  The men knew they had some Irish blood in them, which made them welcome in Cascade's Irish community. William had been an active part of that community, in his business dealings and his social life, especially since retiring.  Pascal O'Connell, a man Jim remembered from a golf game, approached them with his hand out and a request.

"Boys, we would consider it an honor if you would have the funeral meal at the Irish Cultural Center.  The hall is big enough to hold everyone and they'll stay open as late as we wish.  We want to give Billy a nice send-off," O'Connell finished.

Whether it was the idea of an Irish send-off for their dad, or having him referred to as "Billy", both Jim and Steven were stunned to silence.  Blair Sandburg, Jim's life partner of 15 years, stepped into the breach.

"Mr. O'Connell, I'm Blair Sandburg, Jim's partner.  As you can see, both Jim and Steven are overcome by their father's passing.  Perhaps you and I could talk?  You could explain what's involved and what we need to do." They walked off to discuss details.

Relieved, Jim didn't bother turning up his hearing.  He knew Blair would take care of things, as usual.  He did dial up sight at a flash of gold; Blair was handing O'Connell his MasterCard.  Apparently, Blair was giving him free rein.

*****

The results were impressive.  After the services, hundreds showed up at the Center.  There was a lively Irish folk band with an apparently endless playlist.  Singing, dancing and amusing anecdotes filled the hours. In the vernacular, it was great craic.

And of course there was food and drink. Blair was heartened to see Jim eyeing the buffet.  Food hadn't been a priority in the last few days, but the Irish dishes seemed to pique Jim's interest.  Potato farls, stew, cabbage and bacon, shepherd's pie, sturdy soda bread with cheese, apple and whiskey cakes sang a siren song.  Jim selected a little of everything and sat down in a corner.  Blair watched Jim eat, although he couldn't tell whether he was enjoying the food or simply curious.   Jim seemed content to be on his own, so Blair went in search of Steven.

Who was enjoying the entertainment.  "What do you think of the band," Blair asked.

"They're so good.  Look at that drummer.  And the flutist--her fingers are just flying.  Joyce and the kids are wide-eyed;  I'm glad they're getting to witness their heritage.  Thank you, Blair. I know you took the lead on this."

"Not me, brother.  O'Connell did everything." Blair grinned.   "You Irish sure know how to throw a party."

"Dad would have loved this."

"Yeah," Blair agreed, laying a hand on Steven's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

 *****

 

 

 

Jim Ellison was at loose ends.  He was still helping Steven dispose of William's assets.  After that, he would have nothing to do for the first time in his adult life.  He'd just finished twenty-five years with Cascade PD, first as beat cop, then detective and finally Captain of the Robbery Division.  He had a nice pension, and income from his Army service would kick in soon.  He didn't have to work again if he didn't want to, but he wasn't free, either.

Blair was only 45 and mid-career.  He'd taken Simon's offer to become a detective and remained Jim's partner until Jim made captain. Then Blair transferred to the Police Academy, where he still taught.  He was comfortable; settled.  That meant Jim had to find something to do until Blair was ready to move on.  

Putting off momentous decisions for another day, Jim focused on making dinner.

"Honey, I'm hoooome!" crooned Blair, as he walked through the front door.  "Is that your patent-pending, world-famous spaghetti I smell?  I'm starved!"  Blair sauntered up to Jim for a heart-felt kiss that quickly involved their entire bodies.  Fifteen years and the spark was still strong. 

"Well, as much as I'd like to continue this upstairs, spaghetti doesn't keep.  Can we eat first and have each other for dessert?" Blair asked.  Jim smiled and nodded.

Jim was picking at his dinner, which was unusual.  "Jim, is something on your mind?"

"Not exactly, babe.  More like something weird that happened." 

That got Blair's attention. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah." Jim took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.  "It happened at Dad's send-off.  I was eating some of the food and had a... sense memory.  From when I was a kid."

Blair nodded encouragingly.

"My dad's mom died not long after Mom left us.  Before that, she used to visit and cook--some of the same things that were at that table.  But the thing I remembered was her soda bread.  It was different from what you get at the bakeries.  Hearty, not sweet.  After she'd bake it, she'd sit me down in the kitchen and put a big slice in front of me with butter and jam. 

"The one at the center triggered the memory, even though it wasn't the same." Jim looked down at his plate.  "Maybe it was the nostalgia of the day, but I was thinking how much I'd like a slice of Gran's bread once more." 

Blair took Jim by the hand and led him upstairs.  He stripped Jim and laid him on their bed, then gave him a slow, thorough massage and began to speak softly.  "Jim, when I'm done, I'm going to put you in a light trance.  You need to go back to that memory and really focus on the bread--the taste, the texture, the smell.  Once you've got that locked in, I know we can find it.  And, once we do, we'll be able to celebrate that memory of you and your gran."

The process was familiar; Blair had put him under any number of times over the years.  Afterwards, the effects of the day and the massage put Jim into a deep sleep.  Blair kissed him lightly, then went downstairs to clean the kitchen.  While he worked, he pondered what the incident meant and what to do about it.  By the time he was done, he had the bones of a plan.

Two weeks later, Jim walked into the loft.  Blair looked up from his laptop and asked, "How did things go?"

"Surprisingly well," answered Jim, walking over to give Blair a light kiss. "The proceeds from the house's sale and Dad's endowments go into the Ellison Foundation fund.  The Board will buy Ellison Enterprises; the accountants are setting up trusts for the best tax advantages.  Everything is done."

"That's awesome.  What a relief," Blair said, smiling.  "And great timing, too.  We have two full days to pack and close things up before taking off."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you.  I've planned an odyssey for us.  It starts the day after tomorrow, but timing is flexible."

"Forgot?  Blair, you know I don't like surprises."

Blair took Jim's hand and pulled him over to the sofa.  "Babe, you have nothing pressing for the foreseeable future.  In almost twenty years, we've never had more than two weeks off together.  We have the opportunity to do something fun without being rushed.  I decided to take the next semester off, so I'm free as a bird.  Let me take you on a road trip.  I have a lot of experience with this, Jim.  I guarantee you won't regret it."

"Where are we going?"

"Not where, what.  We're searching for your grandmother's soda bread.  We'll travel around to likely places trying to find it."

"Blair, we could probably talk to a dozen Irish families who attended Dad's wake and find it."

"We can ask them when we get back.  Jim, let's just go.  We'll take our time, act like locals or tourists, eat at restaurants or picnic, get up at the crack of dawn or noon or stay in bed and make love for days.  We can focus on just us, babe, what you and I need and want.  What do you say?"

As he listened, Jim felt a surge of anticipation.  "I say I'd better get packed."

******

They wandered at will, traveling by air or rail or car.  Activities and time frames changed;  the only constant was tasting the local soda bread.  They explored San Francisco, Chicago, Savannah, Philadelphia, Boston, as well as cities with smaller Irish populations. 

Weeks later, after enjoying Norfolk, Virginia, Blair announced it was time to go to the source: they had to visit Ireland.  Jim agreed, not a bit surprised Blair had packed their passports. The "odyssey" had been immensely enjoyable; he could see himself following his Pied Piper partner anywhere. 

"Is this what it was like with Naomi?" Jim asked shyly, as they settled in for the night.  "Traveling around when you were a kid?"

"Well, we didn't stay in such nice accommodations, and usually stayed longer in one spot," Blair answered.  "And of course I didn't have nearly the quality or quantity of sex," he added with a smirk, which earned him a poke in the ribs.  "But, yeah, this sense of carefree adventure.  Like anything could happen.  That's what I remember."

They flew into Dublin and explored the capital before hiring a car, traveling south and west.  They bought Waterford whiskey glasses, took the Guinness tour and visited Blarney castle.  Jim discovered the local soda breads were closer to his memory.

Driving along M8 in the Cork countryside, Blair suddenly pulled into a dairy.  The road sign advertised that they made their own cheese and butter.  "Maybe their own bread, too," he suggested.

The front of the farmhouse had been modified to be a storefront,  and they were greeted by a cheerful middle-aged woman.  "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Mrs. Hagarty?" Blair asked.

"That's right."

"I'm Blair Sandburg."

She rushed around the counter.  "Oh, and haven't you timed it just right?  And this must be James."  She astonished Jim by hugging each of them in turn, then taking his arm and pulling him toward the back of the house.

In a large living room were some twenty people of all ages.  All wearing smiles.

"Well, let's start with me.  I'm Shannon Hagarty. Your father's grandfather and my mother's grandfather were brothers, raised in Galway. Your great-grandda went to America and mine moved to Cork.  Everyone here is a relative." 

The next hour was filled with introductions, with Jim trying to absorb it all and Blair scribbling furiously in his journal.  Then everyone sat down for refreshments. 

As they passed around tea and beer and whiskey, Shannon said, "I understand you've been trying to find your gran's soda bread.  Each household has its own recipe.  Since we're cousins, mine might be closer than most.  Give it a try and see."  With that, she brought out a large tray with meats and cheeses,  butter and spreads. In the center, in pride of place, was a crusty loaf, still warm.  Shannon cut a big slice and put it on a plate in front of Jim, with butter and jam on the side. 

Overwhelmed, Jim took the time to smell the offering, to feel the texture.  He ate the first bite unadorned, closing his eyes and chewing it as he focused on that long-ago memory.  Was it exact? After all the breads he'd tasted, he no longer knew.  What he did know was that it tasted like home. With that discovery, surrounded by his newly found family, Jim opened his eyes, smiled and nodded.  Everyone cheered and they spent the rest of the day sharing stories and food.

Promising more visits in the coming days, Jim and Blair headed for a local B&B.  As they settled in their bed, Jim kissed Blair.  He realized that this was also a taste of home, one that he could have anytime, anywhere.  His heart was filled with gratitude at what his partner had done.  It would take a lifetime to fully express his appreciation. 

Jim wrapped himself around his spouse, conveying all of his love.  "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered.  "For everything you did, for everything you are."

As they snuggled contentedly, Jim asked,  "Now, where is our next adventure?"

 

 


End file.
